


spin cycle

by sourlemonblue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Laundromat AU, Laundry, M/M, i started this in july of 2016 and fear is a concept of the past, kuroo and oikawa and daichi all live in a house together, noya and asahi are only there for a second, please do NOT copy to any other sites or apps, seriosuly theyre each mentioned like twice, side iwaoi and kuroken, spot the references to my other fics, what i mean is JUST TAKE IT PLEASE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22672180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourlemonblue/pseuds/sourlemonblue
Summary: A busted dryer leads to a few things for Daichi: weekly trips to the laundromat, a few chance encounters, and a whole boatload of teasing.(In which most things happen for a good reason.)
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou & Oikawa Tooru & Sawamura Daichi, Kuroo Tetsurou & Sawamura Daichi, Oikawa Tooru & Sawamura Daichi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 140





	spin cycle

**Author's Note:**

> thanks @ dylan and kou yallre the best!
> 
> (also, to preemptively clarify, >> is for incoming messages, and << is outgoing. typing styles will also be a clue.)

Daichi looks up when Kuroo slouches down the stairs on Sunday morning, looking like he actually got run over by a truck in yesterday’s clothes.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, laughing into his coffee (cream until caramel-colored, and an even tablespoon of sugar) when Kuroo flips him off over his shoulder, “Sleep well?”

“Jesus-H-fucking- _Christ_ , Sawamura,” Kuroo grunts, unearthing the orange juice out from the dark (busted lightbulb) recesses of the fridge, letting it close behind him as he chugs a solid half of the remaining juice straight out of the bottle.

Daichi side-eyes him, which convinces Kuroo to poor the rest of it in a glass and mock, “Yeah, whatever, _Dad_.”

“Thanks, son.” Daichi does not fuck around this early on a Sunday. “Did you call the dryer guy?”

“Yeah, he said the next available consultation appointment isn’t ‘til Wednesday. So until then, we’re stuck with a busted clothes-dryer, and we gotta either air-dry everything on fucking clotheslines, or cry ‘uncle’ and use the laundromat down the street.”

Fuck. Daichi needs the laundry done on-time, for once, considering he ran out of clean clothes Thursday night. “I’m assuming you’ll stop by the laundromat later today then?”

Kuroo’s head drops to the table just hard enough to be worrying. “ _Oh my god._ Why did I trade chores with you.”

Daichi hums questioningly into his mug.

After a blur of bed-hair, Kuroo’s eyes find Daichi’s. “Sawamura Daichi, for the love of god, I will _literally pay you_ to do this week’s laundry.”

“Yesterday’s double was that bad?” Daichi sips his coffee, slightly intrigued. Kuroo enjoys his job a lot, so if something happened last night that made it difficult enough that a double shift made him regret life like this the next morning, then it had to have been pretty terrible.

“It was the worst fucking thing. I would prefer to commit seppuku than go through that shit again. Dishonor and all.” His lack of elaboration speaks volumes, so Daichi doesn’t pry. He can ask later, after all.

“Fine, whatever, dude. Just go back to sleep.”

“Aww yessss, you are a literal _god_ , Sawamura,” he says, groaning rapturously, making Daichi chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m completely amazing, now go get my money.”

Oikawa, up surprisingly early for a Sunday, calls through his bedroom door, “Ooh! Dai-chan, buy me milkbread!”

“Fuck off, Tooru,” he shouts back with a smile.

Daichi can hear his pout. “Mean.”

Kuroo chuckles, and hops back upstairs. A few minutes later, Daichi’s out the door with two full loads of dirty laundry, a bunch of one- and two-hundred-yen coins in his pocket and a crisp thousand-yen note in his wallet.

—

Daichi realizes as he pulls in that two loads’ worth of clothes is a bit much to carry in one trip, so he figures he’ll do the laundry in shifts.

He nods to the clerk sitting behind a small desk, reading today’s paper over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, and sets the first load rolling. After shuffling for his keys, he digs them out of his pocket, then clicks his fob to unlock the doors and get the next load. Daichi is just getting up, arms full of week-old clothes, when he hears footsteps behind him, heading towards the laundromat’s front door.

He turns quickly, relocking his car, and says, “Would you mind holding that for me?”

The man at the door has hair shining in the late-morning sun like misplaced starlight. “Yeah sure! You got everything?”

Daichi blushes a little. _Is this guy an actual angel?_ “Um, y-yeah, I should be okay. Thanks.”

“No problem!” He walks through the door, holding it open behind him from the inside. 

Which, of course, means that Daichi gets a fantastic view of his ass. Daichi honestly tries not to look.

(He fails.)

“Thanks.”

The man hums a sound of assent, nodding slightly. Daichi has to pull his gaze away by force from the way his hair curls softly around his face.

As if to busy himself, Daichi ignores the sound of coins sliding into the machine a few down from his, and hurriedly shoves the next load in the machine next to the first one, setting that as well. Then, glancing up as the silver-haired man makes his way back up to the counter, he proceeds to unceremoniously plop his ass down on one of the shitty folding chairs, and fuck around on his phone until his clothes are finished and ready to be moved to the dryer. He does manage to keep himself distracted for a bit, until his mind wanders back to the pair speaking quietly at the counter.

He watches the guy with silver hair make small talk with the older gentleman behind the counter, charming and charismatic, even while facing away from Daichi. (Once again, Daichi is momentarily distracted by his butt.) They are clearly well acquainted with one another, like the pretty guy tends to be around a lot. A regular? Probably.

The silver-haired boy laughs at something, his ears going a bit pink at the tips, and a similar flush creeping up the back of his neck. Daichi feels his eyes widen a bit, a short bit ofa warmth crossing his own cheeks at the sight.

Did this guy have to be beautiful no matter what? Was his mother forced to sign a contract in order to give birth to him or something? Like, ‘your son must torment young college-age queer volleyball players with his beauty in order to live a full life’?!’

 _He must have sold his soul for beauty at a young age,_ Daichi muses. _That’s gotta be why._

 _Unless,_ some part of him adds, _he’s an incubus._

Of course Daichi would be cursed enough to fall in love with a sex demon.

His (ridiculous) train of thought is interrupted by a ping from his phone, which he had been holding, but ignoring as he stared idly at the pair talking at the counter.

**Kuroo**  
>> _almost done?? kenma is refusing to hang out with me until i have clean clothes_

Daichi snickers to himself. It’s a very Kenma thing to do to refuse to see his boyfriend—ah, fiancé—until he’s been properly groomed and clothed.

**Kuroo**  
<< _Just about done with the rinse cycle by the looks of it. Will switch in five minutes so should be finished in under an hour._

As if on cue, the lock on the first load pops, and Daichi fumbles the device into his pocket to switch the clothes over to the dryer. The quarters clink their way into the machine, and Daichi doesn’t see the silver-haired boy’s head turn his way, eyes trailing the _truly magnificent_ curve of Daichi’s hips and ass, before bringing his attention back to the man in front of him.

( _“What was that about ‘nobody new on the horizon, Suga?”_

_“I don’t even know him!”_

_“That hasn’t stopped you before.”_

_“...He does have a nice butt…”_

_“Understatement, but yes.”_

_“Watch it, Otsuka-san. I saw him first.”_

_“Suga. I’m married.”_ )

Daichi switches the load successfully, for the most part—clothes kept falling out of his hands okay, and he’s not normally a clumsy guy—and sets it to drying. It’ll be another minute or two before the second load is ready to be switched, so he faces the two at the counter and plops back down on his chair, straddling it this time like some middle school douchebag messing with his phone.

 _I have a good reason_ , he thinks, then blushes when he sees Laundromat Boy looking at him inquisitively. “What?” he says, eternally grateful that his voice doesn’t crack (like the preteen he’s pretending not to be).

The guy with silver hair shakes his head with raised ‘not guilty’ hands. He has a beauty mark right below his left eye. It taunts Daichi. “I didn’t say anything,” he chuckles, then turns to seemingly get his laundry from the dryer.

Daichi frowns at how he’s embarrassed himself this time, but continues to pout down at his phone, which is still displaying Kuroo’s conversation thread. He stares at it idly until the second load dings at him, ready to be switched as well. He types quickly.

**Kuroo**  
<< _Second load is in the dryer. Home in 45 mins._

A quicker response:

**Kuroo**  
>> _pls hurry dude im cuddle deprived_

Daichi scoffs at his phone. He hears a chuckle and looks up.

Laundromat Boy is covering his mouth with a hand, smiling behind it at something the guy behind the counter said. Daichi’s stomach flutters, his face warming.

 _Incubus_ , Daichi thinks again, and switches the load.

Laundromat Boy gathers his things, and waves at the guy at the counter. “See you next week!” 

_Definitely a regular, then_. An idea forms alongside the conclusion.

By the time the second load is dry, Daichi has resolved to do the house laundry at this particular laundromat every Sunday until either he gives up, or he gets Laundromat Boy’s number.

And Daichi is not one to give up.

—

Daichi hears the vacuum running upstairs when he props open the front door to carry the newly-clean laundry in. Looks like Tooru’s Sunday Cleaning coincided with the laundry this week.

 _And hopefully, it will for a few more weeks at least_ , Daichi thinks, smiling ruefully at the teasing Kuroo is going to award him with when he hears Daichi’s request. He brings in the first load, Kuroo’s clothes for the most part.

Seconds later, he hears over-eager footsteps galloping down the steps. Kuroo slings himself around the corner and across the kitchen tile in nothing but fuzzy Christmas socks and a _tiny_ pair of boxer briefs with little cat paw prints all over them. “Are those mine?” At Daichi’s nod, he darts forward, grabbing the laundry basket from him and dashing for the stairs. “ThanksDaichiyou’rethebestbye.”

Daichi chuckles at the two separate times Kuroo manages to trip up the stairs in his haste. His bedroom door slams, and various percussive noises travel through the walls as Kuroo gets ready to visit his fiancé for the first time in a few days. More noises travel down the steps, albeit at a lower volume and a gentler pace.

“Okay, I’m outta here,” Kuroo’s still pulling a shirt over his head, even halfway down the stairs. “I’ll cook breakfast tomorrow or something as special repayment for you doing the laundry for me, yeah?”

Daichi rolls his eyes at Kuroo pointedly. “I appreciate the boundless generosity you bestow upon the world. Actually, though...I could use a favor myself.” he says, scratching the side of his face uneasily. Christ, he can feel his blush in the tips of his ears. “Not that breakfast wouldn’t be great!” he blurts, stuttering ridiculously, “I just happen to have something specific in mind.”

Kuroo perks up, slowing his rush out the door at the sight of an embarrassed Daichi. “Oya? What has our Dai-chan so flustered?”

“Um...w-well…I was wondering if I could switch chores with you for a while.”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side, looking exactly like the cat he supposedly isn’t in his confusion. “What? I thought you liked cooking best?”

“I mean, I do...it’s just—”

Kuroo looks at him for a moment, waiting for Daichi’s words to come in coherent thoughts.

“...There’s a really cute guy who goes to that laundromat every Sunday,” Daichi rushes out in one breath.

Kuroo’s eyes go wide.

Then, they sparkle with gleeful realization.

He shouts, “OHHH!!! _Get some_!!” Then, he directs his volume up the stairs. “Tooru!! Daichi’s tryin’a _get some_!!”

Oikawa’s confused yell in return is muffled slightly by the overbearing buzz and whirr of the vacuum cleaner. “Whaaaaat??”

“Daichi’s gonna _get some_!!” Kuroo hollers again.

The vacuum turns off, and Oikawa continues with, “One more time?”

Kuroo looks eternally fed up, and if Daichi wasn’t already so embarrassed, he’d be laughing his ass off right now. “ _Daichi. Is trying. To GET. SOME._ ”

“Get some what?” is Oikawa’s reply, and Daichi does actually chuckle this time. Oikawa can be supremely oblivious on occasion.

“ _Ohhh_!!”

“And _there_ it is.” Kuroo throws an exasperated arm out towards the stairs.

—

Daichi was right to dread Kuroo’s teasing. He does end up swapping chores with Daichi, which is great, but at Daichi’s own expense, which is less great. Every time something even remotely reminds him of the boy at the laundromat that Daichi was trying to “get some” with, he smiles widely, tight lipped, and wiggles his eyebrows vigorously.

Daichi is extremely sick of seeing Kuroo’s Lenny face by now.

Not only does Kuroo continue teasing Daichi relentlessly throughout the rest of the week, but he brings Oikawa into the fold as well. Their shared gym days are a nightmare of jabs at his concentration (“I know your boy is pretty, Daichi, but right now it’s time for us to think about volleyball and getting stronger, not our sweethearts.”) as well as at his assertiveness (“At least you dive for receives, even if you can’t make the jump on cute boys, Dai-chan!”).

Days pass, mostly all in this fashion, and Daichi is amazed he even got to Saturday night without having to hide a body.

He’s winding down in front of the TV after his shift at the library, shitty lite beer in hand (Miller? Rolling Rock? All he knows is it tastes like water and regret), when Kuroo comes flouncing down the stairs.

“You excited to see your _man_ tomorrow?” he says, and Daichi can hear the smirk in his voice as much as he can picture it in his head.

Admittedly, though, Daichi _is_ excited. “I guess…” he says, injecting as much guard and suspicion into those two words as is humanly possible.

Kuroo grabs his own shitty beer from the fridge, glass bottles clinking when he closes the refrigerator door, and plops down on the adjacent loveseat. “You gonna jump his bones tomorrow?” His grin remains unrelenting.

Daichi has half a mind to throw a pillow at him, but sighs, rethinking, and sips mournfully at his pisswater. “Shut up and watch weird American TV with me.”

Kuroo laughs, grabbing the Xbox controller, navigating quickly to Netflix.

They decide on a show about monster-hunting brothers that has way more plot than anybody could have imagined, except maybe the writers and creators. It’s familiar in a strange way—maybe Hinata or Kageyama had mentioned it back in high school? Seems plausible.

They settle in, and, miraculously, the teasing pauses.

—

Sunday morning rolls around, and Daichi rises steadily, as he usually does, albeit more tiredly than usual. Nerves are a thing, apparently.

(Not that he’d mention that to either of his housemates, else he bear the brunt of even more teasing—then he’d _really_ need to bury them.)

He slumps downstairs and Kuroo wolf whistles from the rickety kitchen table as he digs through the fridge. Daichi very nearly slams his head against the condiments.

Clearly, Kuroo has been up for a bit already, as he’s the visage of bright morning light. “Laundry from Oikawa and me is already gathered and in the living room. Just add yours, and you're ready to get laid!!”

Daichi _seriously_ needs more coffee.

—

The laundromat boy is already there when Daichi walks in.

Naturally, in his determination not to look at his crush, he nearly trips over the leg of one of the chairs as he approaches the row of washers.

The silver-haired boy looks up at the noise and Daichi smiles apologetically, hurriedly shoving the dirty clothes in the nearest machine and practically throwing quarters at the machine so he can just bury his nose in his phone and _not embarrass himself_ (anymore).

Aaaaaaaand his phone pings repeatedly, as if cued perfectly.

**Kuroo**  
>> _soooooo_ _  
_ >> _is he as cute as you remember_

Daichi rolls his eyes, resolving to ignore him, at least for now. Maybe Kuroo will get the hint from Daichi’s lack of response that now isn’t the best time. He’s too busy trying to covertly people-watch to hold an actual conversation. (Is it still considered people-watching if there’s only one person you’re watching? Fuck, Daichi sounds like a stalker…)

 _“Hint? What hint?” –Kuroo, probably_.

**Kuroo**  
>> _i for one would be personally offended if he isnt_  
>> _oikawa says he trusts your judgement but i dunno man_  
>> _youve done the ‘socks with sandals’ dad thing before and yknow_ _  
_ >> _there are some things i just cant forgive_

“Heh, someone sure is popular today!”

_Fuck._

Daichi looks up and Laundromat Boy is smiling at him, eyes glinting mischievously.

If Daichi had been standing up, he probably would have fallen over. How can one person be that attractive?!

Belatedly, Daichi realises a response would probably be customary right about now. “Uh…yeah. My housemate won’t leave me alone.”

The boy laughs, silver hair shining. “Hah. I understand how you feel. The captain of the rec volleyball team I’m on never seems to leave me be, either,” he snickers., “But just remember: they do it because they love you.”

Daichi sighs. “He sure feels _something_ alright…”

That pulls a shocked laugh, and Daichi feels like he’s won something. And then something piques his curiosity. “You play volleyball?”

“Yeah,” Laundromat Boy smiles at the floor. “I played in high school, but didn’t have quite enough room in my schedule to try out for my university’s team. Now it’s just that rec team I mentioned.”

Now Daichi is the one for surprised laughter. “My two housemates and I are all on our university’s team. We’re on break now, ‘cause it’s summer, obviously, but what’re the chances right? I never meet anyone outside of the team that plays.”

“Huh.” His hair is shining again, and Daichi seriously can’t take this kind of treatment. “I guess volleyball has never been in the national eye as much as baseball or basketball or anything like that, so yeah. Definitely interesting to find other people who play.”

One of the dryers dings. Laundromat Boy glances, and moves toward it. “Shoot, that’s me. I have to get back. Things to do, people to see, you know how it goes. It was really great talking to you though!”

Daichi smiles, but he really just wants the boy to stay. “Ah, yeah. You too. Have a good one, yeah?”

Silver hair catches the light perfectly when he nods. Daichi wants to run his fingers through it. He covertly watches him pack up and scurry out the door (maybe the ‘things to do’ excuse wasn’t a ruse).

He finishes his laundry in peace, still ignoring Kuroo’s texts.

—

The moment Daichi comes through the front door, he is once again bombarded with teasing.

“How’d it go, loverboy?”

“He _was_ as pretty as you remember, right, Dai-chan?”

Without looking elbowing the door shut behind him, Daichi grumbles, “Nothing happened. Stop looking at me like that.” 

Kuroo throws his hands up. “One job, Sawamura. _One job_.”

“And I thought _you_ trusted my judgement,” Daichi raises an eyebrow at Oikawa.

He titters, fiddling with his hair. “I do...but Kuroo’s right. That socks-with-sandals shit?” He shivers in contempt.

Rolling his eyes and chuckling, Daichi walks over to the couch and drops the laundry basket he’s holding on the couch. “Anyway, yes, he’s still impossibly out of my league, so we’ll probably be acquaintances, and at best, friends, and that’s it.”

“Oh, give yourself a _little_ credit, Dai-chan!! I’m sure you’ve still got a shot. No one can resist those arms of yours for long!!”

Kuroo laughs. “Or your legs, dude. Seriously, if I weren’t engaged, coincidentally enough to the guy I’ve been in love with since childhood, I might go after you just for your thighs.”

Oikawa must be feeling benevolent, because he glances at Daichi quickly, then redirects. “How’s the wedding planning going anyway?”

That topic brings out the boiling frustration and anxiety that come alongside planning a wedding, and Kuroo is sent into a rant that will keep him occupied long enough to give Daichi an escape route. Daichi mouths ‘thank you’ to Oikawa who smiles slightly, gesturing towards the stairs with his head, but with an apprehensive tilt to his mouth that Daichi knows will mean trouble for him later.

Simply put, he now owes Oikawa Tooru a favor, and, no matter how small the favor, that’s never a good position to be in.

—

Another week passes, slower than usual. Off-season training with the team and work at the campus library usually occupy his attention pretty well, but by the time Sunday rolls around again, Daichi feels as though he’s lived a lifetime.

The dryer has since been fixed, which makes it a bit strange that Daichi is going to all the effort of going to the laundromat, but, really, that guy is worth it.

Daichi tries to convince himself that that’s not _really_ fucking creepy, and just slightly unsettling instead.

Sunday finally rolls around, and Daichi wakes up feeling pretty good, really. He’s whistling over his coffee when Kuroo slogs his way downstairs, Oikawa nowhere to be seen for the comparatively early hour.

“You monster,” Kuroo groans, “Anyone whistling before nine 9a.m. has to be possessed by some kind of terrible monster from the Underworld.”

“Consider me possessed, then,” Daichi grins at the loathing look that earns him.

Another moan from Kuroo, this time into a coffee mug, and filled with a bit less hatred. Kuroo plops down in the chair across the table from Daichi. “This is all ‘cuz of Mister Dreamboat over at the laundromat, isn’t it.”

Daichi’s smile dims slightly. “I never said that.”

Chin to the table, Kuroo pouts, “You didn’t need to.” He picks up his head, sipping more coffee. “What’s he look like to steal your heart so quickly?”

Daichi sighs, sure Kuroo can see the stars in his eyes from where he’s sitting. “A little shorter than me, silver hair, tiny mole next to his left eye. He looks like an angel, I swear to god.”

Kuroo looks at him for a few seconds too long, and his expression changes slightly in a way Daichi can’t quite decipher.

The only natural response: “What?”

Shaking his head, smile on his face, Kuroo finishes his coffee, and gets up for more. “Just thinking about how much of a dweeb you are.”

“Whatever, salty. You’ve been around Tsukishima too much.”

Affronted, Kuroo whips around, nearly spilling the mug he just refilled. “That’s sodium chloride to you, _buddy_. And I can’t help that anyway! We’re in the same major and have a lot of classes together!”

“Yeah, yeah. Doesn’t make you any less of a nerd—or any less salty.”

“Just for that,” Kuroo drinks a little more, “You have to wake Oikawa for his summer class that starts in an hour.”

“Now?” Daichi whines.

“You know how long he takes to do his hair.”

Daichi’s groan buzzes the wood under his face, and he’s sure Kuroo is smirking over the lip of his mug.

—

By a stroke of luck, Oikawa had set an alarm for himself, and is already in the bathroom, presumably starting on his hair and skin routine.

“Oikawa,” he says loudly through the bathroom door after two quick knocks, “You got any laundry you want done?”

“In the hamper!! Say hello to your boy toy for me!”

Daichi purses his lips out of a smile, and rolls his eyes. “I’m rolling my eyes, Oikawa.”

“I know, I can hear you!”

_What a shithead._

—

Daichi hauls his laundry inside the laundromat, and is nearly immediately blessed with a soft smile from Laundromat Boy.

“Hello again!” he chimes, and are those angels singing that Daichi hears? Dear god, he’s so gone already.

“Hey,” he says back, hustling to get to a washer and start the first load so he can (hopefully) get to talking with the silver-haired boy.

Once the clothes are started on their cleansing journey, he habitually pulls out his phone, scrolling through whatever social media happens to be up on his screen. He’s hoping it isn’t a deterrent and that Laundromat Boy will come over and talk to him anyway, but he doesn’t want to look too eager, of course, so he finds this to be a happy medium—occupying himself in a please-distract-me kind of way.

Luckily, his intent holds, and Laundromat Boy slides into a nearby chair. “Back again, huh?”

“Yeah. I, uh—” _Sawamura Daichi, don’t you dare screw this up. Oikawa and Kuroo will_ destroy _you._ “Th-the dryer at my place pooped out,” _WORD CHOICE._ “and, well...here I am, I guess. Can’t not do laundry with the house full of,” _Stop right there. Please god just—_ “gross sweaty sports guys working out and whatever.”

Daichi feels like giving himself a black eye.

“Ah, that can’t be easy. Well, if you’re gonna be around regularly for a while, then I might as well introduce myself,” he says, brushing his hair away from his eyes, and managing to look like Aphrodite had taken on a masculine form. “I’m Sugawara Koushi, but everybody calls me Suga.”

Daichi feels his heart in his throat. A name. He got a _name._ “Sawamura Daichi,” He tries to keep his voice even, and he thinks he succeeds for once? “Though Daichi works just fine if you don’t mind the informality.”

Laundromat Boy— _Suga_ , holy shit--chuckles, nodding. “Daichi it is, then. Nice to meet you!”

“You too.”

But then, because Daichi’s luck can never last for more than a few minutes at a time, one of the dryers stops, and it’s gotta be either Suga’s or Daichi’s based on principle alone.

Daichi looks over at them, and of course it is. “That’s me,” he says ruefully. “I’ve gotta go, but it was nice officially meeting you, Suga. Any chance I’ll see you next week?”

“Definitely! I’m usually here nearly every Sunday.”

Daichi stands, and before he can change his mind, he bustles out the door, clean clothes in tow.

Daichi loads up his car, and tries to avoid a backward glance, but he fails, and gazes past the glass of the windshield for a moment before his attention returns to the wheel. He’s a little bit of a coward, but isn’t everyone when their feelings are on the line?

More than that, he got a _name_. Sure, Suga might be straight, or taken, or a foreign exchange student. But even if they don’t end up dating, Daichi is already sure they’ll be good friends.

He’s _never_ telling Oikawa and Kuroo. They’ll Google and Facebook-stalk Suga, and try to figure out what his and Daichi’s biological children would look like, and a whole bunch of other privacy-optional things.

Daichi’s (technically Oikawa’s) laundry finishes without incident, and he thanks the clerk, who nods at him, smiling knowingly. Knowingly? Was he that obvious? Or was it that Suga tended to have that effect on people? It was anyone’s game.

Daich heads home, driving absentmindedly with a smile on his face. It seems hypocritical, but maybe _he_ would be the one to Facebook stalk his new...acquaintance, would be the word, Daichi supposed. They weren’t anything more right now, even if Daichi wanted it to be different.

The idea of getting to know Suga—at least, in a more quantifiable way than just introducing themselves in person—follows Daichi back to his car and all the way home, even through the front door of the house.

Oikawa is there to meet him, of course, yanking his laundry basket away from Daich the second it’s in full view. “Hey, loverboy,” he says in that sickenly sweet tone that he uses to tease his victims about their significant others, “get his number yet?”

Daichi’s eyes roll without his permission, and his face flushes the same way, mouth curling up in one corner.

Oikawa’s posture straightens from its flirtatious slouch. “Holy shit, you actually did?? No way.”

“No!” Daichi whines, affronted. “We’ve seen each other in person, like, twice. Why would I have his phone number?”

“If you promised him to a night he won’t forget,” Oikawa smirks again, and Daichi sighs so hard he nearly goes lightheaded.

Daichi smacks Oikawa’s arm at that, and stalks upstairs to sort laundry.

—

Both Kuroo and Oikawa are gone the week after that, and it’s not a surprise. Kuroo is off at the florist's or something for the wedding, and Oikawa mentioned he was going home to Miyagi with Iwaizumi and wouldn’t be back till that evening. So Daichi makes himself coffee in a quiet house, revelling in the silence. At the same time, it’s kind of lonely though, and he leaves to go do laundry without a second thought.

Suga isn’t there when he hauls his baskets in, though, and really? Daichi hadn’t thought himself a social butterfly or anything, but this whole thing was starting to wear him down.

The first load goes in, and Daichi sits down in one of the chairs, checking for missed messages. Of course, being not-a-social-butterfly, there aren’t any, and he huffs despairingly.

He’s just about to open up Facebook (the horror), when the door slams open, and Daichi looks up excitedly. He doesn’t even really _know_ Suga, and he’s already leading Daichi around like a dog.

Daichi’s lucky this time—it’s Suga who comes through the door, throwing it open and leaning over his knees, huffing for breath.

The clerk ruffles his magazine—National Geographic this time— and looks up over his glasses. “What’s all the rush, Suga-san?”

Suga flings himself up and forward, and Daichi still manages to be startled at the sudden movement. He pants, “I, hah. I have an appointment, and...I couldn’t come at the usual time. But! You left this last week.”

And Suga hold out a very familiar sweatshirt. Daichi’s old high school hoodie, worn cuffs and hem and stretched neck and cracked lettering spelling out _Karasuno, Fight!_ on the front. _It just had to be the embarrassing one, huh…_ And then Daichi blushes, because of course it was, and of _course_ he did.

“You left this,” Suga murmurs again, volume suddenly not loud enough for the space. “I didn’t find it until I went to use the dryer next to the one you used, and you were gone by then. So I just...threw it in with my stuff. I hope that’s okay…”

Oh, Daichi realises, it would probably smell like him too. He takes his proffered jacket, and smiles sheepishly. “That’s perfectly fine! Thank you for taking care of it for me, and sorry for any trouble. It would definitely be bad if I lost this…” It was definitely a comfy reminder of home, and one of the only ones that Kuroo and Oikawa didn’t make fun of him for.

Suga beams, huffing another settling breath. “I’m just glad I could get it back to you this week instead of waiting till next. That said though, you should probably give me your phone number in case something like this happens again! Then we can just meet up instead of waiting for full weeks anyway!”

Oh shit, a pretty boy asking for his phone number? Sign Daichi the fuck up. “If you want,” he says, trying to keep his tone from wavering, “though I’ll try not to make any more mistakes like this.”

He recites his number for Suga, and feels his phone buzz in his pocket as Suga sends a confirmation text. “Got it.” Daichi says, smiling. “Thanks again, Suga. That was a huge help.”

“It’s no problem, but I really do have to get going now. Maybe we can meet for coffee at some point, and learn more about each other! Bye Daichi!”

And he’s gone with another tinkle of the entryway door.

The room is quiet, but for the rumble of Daichi’s washer.

“Did he just ask me out?”

Daichi turns to the older gentleman, still browsing through his magazine. “Did he? Or am I imagining things?”

The clerk looks up, and pushes his glasses up his nose. “No, son. I don’t believe you are.”

Daichi smiles wide, and tries not to punch the air.

Minutes later, the clerk—Otsuka-san—is sworn to secrecy, because _really, nothing happened, Daichi swears_.

—

Daichi adds Suga to his contacts first thing, and nearly avoids putting a heart or something next to his name. He decides against it last-minute, and jumps as he hears the front door open.

Oikawa plows through, looking like he’s ready to sprint upstairs and start cleaning, but he stops when he sees Daichi. “What’s that look for?” he says with suspicion in his eyes.

“What look?” Daichi says, suddenly self-conscious.

“You look like you’re really happy about something.” Oikawa just stares at him assessingly for what feels like way too long. Does Daichi have something on his face? Is he making a weird expression? Can Oikawa suddenly read minds??

He holds up a finger in enlightenment. “Oh! You got his number, didn’t you!”

Fuck, _how._

“Why would you think—” _Please don’t ask for his name. He’ll never want to see me again if you stalk him_. Daichi is frozen in place, panic running its course.

“Oh my god, you totally did! Dai-chan, you _sly dog_. I was totally gonna suggest a date with a friend of mine if you couldn’t get your feet under you for that guy from the laundromat. But now that you have his number, I’ll leave you be. Do your magic, and it’ll be fine!” With that, Oikawa sweeps up the stairs and disappears. It’s not long before Daichi hears a spray bottle and things being shuffled around upstairs, but he still can’t seem to move.

When the vacuum finally starts up, Daichi exhales in a rush and relaxes, if only slightly. He has no idea how he avoided that one, but he’s grateful regardless.

—

Suga texts a few days later, and Daichi almost misses it on the way to the gym.

**Suga**  
_ >> hey! it’s suga, from the laundromat? just wondering if you’re free for coffee today! it seems like we get along well, and i’d like to get to know you better :) _

_Holy shit!_ Daichi’s brain fizzles out almost immediately, and he just about has a meltdown right there in the entryway.

How does he respond? He’s not super free right now, via the whole gym thing, but he will be in a few hours. Will Suga read that as unwillingness? Will Daichi ruin everything by being too eager if he says he _is_ free? Will he look like a _loser_ for not having plans on a Friday?

Before he spirals too badly, he shakes himself, and responds with the truth.

**Suga**  
_ << Hey! I’m a little busy (on the way to the gym right now), but I’ll be free in a few hours. Is that okay? If so, we can meet around 2pm. _

He gets a message back pretty quickly, and it tweaks his nerves as much as it excites him. Maybe appearing overeager wasn’t a concern after all.

**Suga**  
_ >> yeah, that’s perfectly fine! i’m excited :) _

Daichi’s smiling at his phone like a dumbass. It’s worth it, to think about Suga maybe doing the exact same thing wherever he is right now.

**Suga**  
_ << Me too. :-) _

Daichi leaves for the gym, and cuts his usual routine short enough to accommodate for the extra time he’ll need to pick his outfit.

—

“Daichi, hey!”

Daichi looks up from the (extremely cute) selfie Suga sent a few minutes ago to let Daichi know he’s arrived at the coffee shop that’s right next door to the laundromat, and sees the real deal right in front of him.

Suga’s in a navy varsity jacket, slim jeans, and a _beanie_ , for fuck’s sake, Daichi’s heart is not going to survive this.

Daichi’s hair is still wet from his post-workout shower, and he feels underdressed, especially when he sees Suga’s blue and silver brocade loafers.

“Hey, how’s it going? Your shoes are incredible.”

Suga’s laughter rings like an angel getting wings. “Thanks! I have no idea where they’re from—I thrifted them. One of my proudest finds.”

Daichi can’t help the smile. “Totally understandable. Have you ordered yet?”

“Yeah, but it’s not out yet.” Daichi surveys the moderately-busy shop around them and nods consideringly. That makes sense.

“Okay, I’ll order, and bring you yours when it’s done, if you wanna grab a table?”

Suga nods, and Daichi watches him go. His _ass_ in those _jeans_ , Daichi will not live through the end of the day. To maintain some level of dignity (and for the sake of not openly objectifying other human beings), Daichi approaches the counter.

“Ah,” the man behind the counter says. “If it’s you, then I won’t worry as much.”

Wait, what? “What?”

“You’re the one who meets Suga-san at the laundromat every Sunday, right? When he said he had a date today, we were all worried, but it’s a relief that it’s you.”

“Wh—we? You know Suga?”

The barista nods, tucking a few strands not caught by his hairband and bun out of his face. “Yeah, he’s friends with a lot of the workers in this strip. We all watch out for him. When he said he had a date today, we were...mildly concerned. But, um, Otsuka-san has met you, so it’s fine.”

Holy shit. Daichi doesn’t want to know what would have happened if he hadn’t been approved of. Especially by the look of this guy’s arms.

( _He’s cute,_ Daichi’s brain shouts, but he’s here on a date, for chrissakes, give it a rest.)

“...Does Suga have a defense squad or something?”

The barista shakes his head. “We’re just...ah, protective, is all. Anyway, uh, what can I get you?”

Daichi orders his dirty chai, and takes Suga’s drink to him in a confused daze.

“Did Asahi say something weird to you? You look worried for your safety.” Suga looks ready to jump out of his chair and go beat somebody up to retain Daichi’s honor, like he’s a pure maiden of honorable virtue, and Suga is determined to be his knight in shining armor.

To avoid bloodshed, Daichi shakes his head earnestly, placing Suga’s mug carefully on the table first. “No, no! He just mentioned you were friends with a lot of people around here. I’m not surprised, I had assumed you live nearby, but I didn’t know you had so many people looking out for you. Should I be worried?”

Suga is the vehement denier now. “Definitely not. They were just—well. To be upfront, I had a rough time with my ex, and he pulled some shady shit in this area, which is how I found out. They—the people around here were worried, and now have the idea in their heads that they have to protect me.”

Daichi smiles, warmth blooming in his chest. “I’m glad you have people like that looking out for you.”

Suga picks up his mug, giggling into the steam rising around his face. “Asahi doesn’t count, I’ve known him since high school, and we play rec volleyball together. He’s a bit of a whimp, though his appearance would fool anyone.”

“I’ll be honest, I was worried for a moment. Thought he might be an overprotective ex who was trying to get you back.”

The cackling laughter Suga lets out takes Daichi off guard for just a moment. “Haa, no. We tried that once in high school, and it wasn’t quite right. Maybe under different circumstances, but we agreed that it felt something was missing, so we broke it off. We never stopped being good friends, though.”

“So what I’m hearing,” Daichi murmurs, “is that I should _definitely_ be worried.”

Suga sips his drink—something with caramel, Daichi thinks—and considers. “If you break my heart, yeah maybe. But if you do that…hm.” He gets a truly terrifying gleam in his eyes. “If you intend to break my heart, my friends will be the _least_ of your worries.”

Oh shit. Daichi’s heart flutters like a pre-teen's. “I doubt that’ll be an issue, but if I break your heart, I give you blanket permission to kick my ass.”

The threatening light in Suga’s eyes fades to lighthearted joy, and he laughs. “You’re so sweet. I’m glad you know the risks.”

 _The real risk,_ Daichi thinks, looking at the way Suga’s head tips back when he laughs, _is that I might be in love before our first date is even over._

—

Daichi gets his drink, and they talk aimlessly about a bunch of different things, before the subject comes back around to volleyball again.

“You said you play rec, right? Are you guys any good?”

Suga lights up. “I think so! I’m the reserve setter, and our main is really good! Knew him in high school too, though we were in different cities.”

Shit, does Suga know everyone? “Nice. A friend of mine is a setter too. Maybe we should get a few people together for some scrims sometime, if you feel like it.”

“Actually,” Suga says, something dawning on his face, “we have a team practice later today for a game on Sunday. I’m sure—if you wanted to maybe come watch, maybe they’d be okay with you jumping in close to the end, after we finish drills and whatever.”

The invitation, something so obviously spur-of-the-moment, but still so sincere, shouldn’t make Daichi feel like he’s flying to the point of being lightheaded, but is _does_ , and—

“Yeah,” he croaks, before he can talk himself out of it, “honestly, I think that’d be a lot of fun. If—if you’re sure they’d be okay with it, and if it’s really no trouble.”

“Not at all!” Suga beams, and is Daichi imagining the pink in his cheeks, or is it just a reflection of how he himself feels? “I’ll text the captain now to make sure!”

This doesn’t _seem_ like a courtesy invitation that Daichi wasn’t meant to accept, but he wants to make sure Suga has room to stop him if he’s uncomfortable.

A minute later, Suga’s phone buzzes, and he lights up all over again, and Daichi’s heart can’t _take_ this. “He said it’s okay! He’s running a little late, but if you want to participate in warmups, that’s okay too! Plus there’s gonna be a scrimmage at the end of practice, if we have enough people there tonight, and you can jump in then too!”

“If you’re sure it’s okay—”

“Do you not want to?” Suga looks like a raincloud has appeared over his head all of a sudden. “Sorry, I’m pretty pushy when I get excited, it’s okay if you’d—”

Daichi is overwhelmed by the sweetness for just a moment. Suga is really an amazing person, despite the short amount of time that Daichi has spent with him. “No, really, I want to! It’s been too long since I played casually. I’m used to volleyball running my life, so it’ll be good to play and relax at the same time for once.”

Suga smiles again, but it’s more tentative than before. “...Okay. If you’re sure. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I appreciate that, I do.” Daichi could cry. He’s _really_ in trouble now. “But it’s not a concern for me. If anything, I should be the one making sure it’s okay for _me_ to be there. If I really get uncomfortable, I’ll tell you. I’m sure it’ll be fine though, so we have nothing to worry about. Promise you’ll do the same, tell me if you’re not okay with it?”

Suga’s nerves seem soothed by that, and they go their separate ways with a smile, a shared address and plans to meet up in practice gear on the hour.

—

Daichi grabs the muscle shirt he only breaks out when he has people to impress. It’s gray, and the placement of the seams makes him look ripped as all hell. His shorts are also a tactical decision, running shorts over a pair of bike shorts that move when his thighs flex, which is often.

He’s a little sore from earlier, but he usually saves the intensive gym work for weekends anyway, so he thinks it’ll be okay. Work might be a little rough, but he’s thankful that he has a desk, and that the library is quiet.

A light jacket goes over top—his high school volleyball club jacket, actually—and he shoves his water, kneepads, towel, and toiletries into his duffel, and zips out the door with a spring his step.

The gym’s address is on the neighboring university’s campus, and it’s a pretty short walk, even though it’s technically on a different campus. There’s a fair number of people inside, including Suga and the barista from earlier—Asahi, Daichi remembers—along with several faces Daichi doesn’t recognise.

Except.

“Noya?!”

The lightning rod shortie jumps up from where he’s doing stretches on the gymnasium floor. “Daichi-san, holy shit!”

They shake hands, before hugging fiercely. Daichi’s amazed. “I thought you transferred!”

“I did!” Noya shouts, and it feels right that he’s still the same spitfire Daichi remembers. “The out-of-state college retracted their scholarship, and I had already missed the late-admission deadline to come back, so I applied to Suga-san’s university because it was my last option! What’re you doing here?!” He gestures ostentatiously, and its familiarity settles pleasantly in Daichi’s chest.

“Um—” Daichi looks to Suga for an explanation.

“We’re on a date, actually,” Suga murmurs with a sly grin.

“—Yeah. That,” Daichi says, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. He’s just happy that Suga’s willing to admit it.

“Ooooohhh,” Noya jeers good-naturedly, and gets smacked upside the head for it, courtesy of Suga. “Ow.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Suga grins. He calls, “Alright, let’s start with warmups, and see when that idiot gets here.”

As if summoned, the gym door pounds open again.

“Sorry I’m late, everybody, the damn cake tasting ran late.”

Wait.

_Wait a goddamn second._

“Oikawa?!”

Suga comes to Daichi’s side. “Wait, Oikawa-san is our captain. How do you know him?”

What the hell. What the _actual fuck_. “He’s my damn housemate!”

“Oh.” Oikawa presses a hand to his mouth. “Oh my god. You’re the date. This is perfect.”

“What the hell do you mean?!” Daichi feels a little betrayed, honestly. How did he even keep this a secret?

“It’s perfect, Dai-chan, because if you didn’t date your cute little ‘laundromat boy’, then I was gonna set you up with the sweet Suga-san from my rec volleyball team.”

...Holy shit.

“And Refreshing-kun,” Oikawa continues, eyes on Suga, “I was going to introduce you to my housemate, the bara-armed, quad-god receiver with thighs that rival my Iwa-chan’s.”

“Quad god—?!” Daichi splutters. “Oh my god. Wait, you didn’t know?”

“ _No!_ Otherwise, Dai-chan, I would have tried to set the two of you up _weeks_ ago. I wanted to give you time to move in on the cutie from the laundromat, if you were planning on it.”

Something pings around the inside of Daichi’s head, a string of connections that slips from his grip too quickly for him to register. “If—wait. Fuck.”

Oikawa meets his gaze, and it registers for both of them at the same time.

“I told Kuroo about the boy with the silver hair and the mole under his eye,” Daichi bites out.

“And I told Tetsu-chan about setting you up with Suga-san from the team. Who we’ve had drinks with _multiple_ times.”

Murderous intent floods Daichi. “Oh my god _please tell me I can kill him._ ”

Suga’s jaw has been on the floor for at least the last minute, before it clicks shut. He looks like the kind of person plotting a cold-blooded murder right about now.

Oikawa waves his hands at Daichi. “We both just had your best interests at heart! I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.”

“I don’t care that you tried to set me up, Tooru,” Daichi says, being as clear as he can that Oikawa isn’t the target of his rage. “That asshole _Tetsu_ knew that we both knew Suga, and that we were trying to see if he would date me, and he _never said anything._ ”

“Wait, Kuroo-san _knew they were the same people?_ ” Noya is the one to speak up this time, and he looks mad too. “That _cheat!_ ”

“Oh god,” Daichi groans. “Not you too.”

Noya’s jaw tenses, and he glances nervously at both Daichi and Suga. It’s such a foreign expression on him, and Daichi is suspicious by default. “He…Kuroo-san took bets, and—”

“You _bet_ on us?!” Daichi and Suga yelled at the same time, almost perfectly in sync.

Noya just starts running, and bolts clear out of the gymnasium before either of them can even think about starting after him.

Daichi gets Kuroo on the phone in a matter of minutes. He actually picks up for once.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Don’t ‘hello’ me, you bastard. You knew Oikawa and I were both talking about Suga, and _then you took bets_?!”

“ _...Oh._ ” Kuroo says, tone on the speakerphone way too even for the accusations he’s receiving. “ _So we’re doing this now, huh._ ”

“You bet your left _asscheek_ we’re doing this now.”

“You owe us our cut of the money, you jerk. Don’t profit off us without our knowledge.” Suga cuts in, and it startles Daichi out of the rant he was settling into.

“What?”

“ _Agreed._ ” Kuroo hisses, “ _Just please don’t let Noya kill me._ ”

“What’s that?” Suga says loudly, like the connection is going bad. “You said you want to give us _all_ your winnings so we don’t feed you to the rabid Nishinoya?”

“ _Fuck,_ fine, _just call him off please, I didn’t do my makeup and my corpse will be so ugly if I die like this._ ”

“You heard him, Noya.” Suga has the most devious look on his face, and Daichi’s heartbeat is in his mouth. “Let him go...for now.”

“ _Just for you, Suga-san._ ” Noya’s voice cuts tinnily through the silence that has fallen over the gym.

Daichi turns to Asahi. “Are you _sure_ there’s no Suga defense squad?”

Asahi shrugs. “He just has a lot of people who care for him.”

“A lot of people willing to do my bidding, you mean,” comes Suga’s devious retort, dark and conniving, and Daichi silently adds himself to that list of people.

Is it pathetic, that he’s already wrapped around Suga’s little finger after one date and a few chance encounters? Maybe.

To be fair, Kuroo will deserve whatever comes his way after this.

(The money doesn’t make it worth it, quite, but it’s definitely a plus.)

—

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! im SO glad this is done
> 
> come yell about s4 with me:  
> onlorakeetwings.tumblr.com


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